It was the Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind who first told Peter who the stranger was and warned him to watch out, because Old Man Coyote is just as fond of Rabbit as Granny or Reddy Fox, and is even more crafty and sly than they.  Peter thanked the Merry Little Breezes for the warning, and then he asked them how many of his family Old Man Coyote had brought with him.  Of course the Merry Little Breezes told Peter that Old Man Coyote was all alone, and they became very indignant when Peter laughed at them.  He just couldn’t help it.

“Why,” said he, “every night I hear a whole crowd yelping and howling together.”

“But you don’t!” insisted the Merry Little Breezes.  “It is Old Man Coyote alone who makes all that noise.”

“Don’t you suppose I know what I hear?” demanded Peter.

“No!” retorted the Merry Little Breezes.  “You may have big ears and be able to hear a great deal, sometimes a great deal more than you have any business to hear, but you are old enough by this time to have learned that you cannot believe all you hear.”  And with that the Merry Little Breezes indignantly raced away to spread the news all over the Green Meadows.

Now Peter was quite as indignant because they thought he couldn’t or shouldn’t believe his own ears, as they were because he wouldn’t believe what they told him, and all the rest of that day he couldn’t put the matter out of his mind.  He was still thinking of it as the Black Shadows came creeping down from the Purple Hills across the Green Meadows.  Suddenly Peter saw a dark form skulking among the Black Shadows.  At first he thought it was Reddy Fox, only somehow it looked bigger.  Peter, safe in the dear Old Briar-patch, watched.  Presently the dark form came out from among the Black Shadows where Peter could see it clearly, sat down, pointed a sharp nose up at the first twinkling little stars, opened a big mouth, and out of it poured such a yelping and howling as made Peter shiver with fright.  And now Peter had to believe his eyes rather than his ears.  His ears told him that there were many voices, but his eyes told him that all that dreadful sound was coming out of one mouth.  It was hard, very hard, to believe, but it was so.

“The Merry Little Breezes were right,” muttered Peter to himself, as Old Man Coyote trotted away in the direction of the Green Forest, and he felt a wee bit ashamed to think that he had refused to believe them.

After that, Peter could think of nothing but Old Man Coyote’s wonderful voice that sounded like many voices, and at the very first opportunity he hurried over to the Smiling Pool to ask Grandfather Frog what it meant.

“Chug-a-rum!” said Grandfather Frog.  “It means simply that Old Man Coyote comes of a very smart family, and that he knows how to make the most of the gift of Old Mother Nature to his grandfather a thousand times removed.”

This sounded so much like a story that Peter straightway teased Grandfather Frog to tell him all about it.  At last, to get rid of him and enjoy a little quiet and peace, Grandfather Frog did so.